81
" With a sigh of resignation, I dial Ryder’s number.
Exactly seven minutes later, he knocks on the door. Ryder to the rescue. I resist the urge to look around for his white horse.
“Okay, where is he?” he asks with a frown. His hair is wet, his T-shirt clinging damply to his skin. I’d either caught him in the shower or in the pool. Probably the pool, since he smells vaguely of chlorine.
I hook a thumb toward the living room. “In there. Passed out on the couch.”
He looks at me sharply. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
He’s lucky I don’t slap him. “I was sitting upstairs in my room, minding my own business, when he showed up at the door. What do you think? Asshat,” I add under my breath.
His brow furrows. “What was that?”
“Nothing. C’mon. Get him out of there before he makes a mess.”
“What about his car?”
I shrug. “I’ll drive it school tomorrow and get a ride home from Lucy or something.”
“I’ll drive you home,” he offers. Correction: he asserts--arrogantly, as if he’s used to giving orders. “We need to go get those tarps and sandbags anyway.”
“How did you…?” I trail off as the answer dawns on me. “My dad e-mailed you, didn’t he?”
“Called me, actually. We’ll go after school tomorrow. After practice,” he amends.
“Yeah. Fine, whatever.” Truthfully, I wasn’t looking forward to lugging sandbags by myself. I wasn’t even sure how I was going to fit them in my little Fiat. Problem solved.
Now to solve my other problem--the one lying on my couch. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
82
" She’s like a sister to me, too” Ryder says quietly. “I always envied you that, you know? A sibling. Do you have any idea how quiet it is at Magnolia Landing when you Caffertys aren’t there? Dad’s always in his office working, and Mom…” He trails off, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Well, Mom’s busy planning the rest of my life. Anyway, Nan’ll come through this.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He bumps my shoulder with his side. “Hey, I’m always right. Right?”
I can’t help it--a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You always think you are, that’s for sure. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
83
" I run out onto the front porch, trying to slow my racing heart as I peer out into the night. The light gets closer and closer, causing hope to blossom in my chest.
“Hey!” a familiar voice calls out, and I nearly weep with relief.
He’s back. Thank God.
But the relief is immediately replaced with anger. “Where the hell have you been?” I ask, my voice shaking.
He clicks off the flashlight and makes his way up the porch steps. “Didn’t you see my note?”
“Are you kidding me?” I sputter. “Do you have any idea how many hours you’ve been gone?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. The house was fine, but the pool was a mess. A tree fell through the screen, and the roof was ripped off the pool house.”
“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say?” I take two steps toward him, fury thrumming through my veins. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? God, Ryder! I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere. I thought you were hurt, or…or…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I was about to go looking for you, out in the pitch-dark!”
He reaches for my hand, but I slap him away.
“Don’t touch me! I swear, I can’t even look at you right now.” I turn and reach for the door. But before I can fling it open, Ryder pulls me toward him, his hands circling my wrists.
“Look, I’m sorry, Jemma. It took me forever to get there, what with all the flooding and everything. And then I was trying to clean stuff up and…well, I guess the time just got away from me.”
I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
“Well, you did scare me.” I manage to pull one hand loose, and I use it to whack him in the chest. “Idiot!”
“I’m fine, okay? I’m here.”
“I wish you weren’t!” I yell, fired up now. “I wish you were lying in a ditch somewhere!” I stumble backward, my heel catching on the porch’s floorboards.
“You don’t mean that,” Ryder says, sounding hurt.
He’s right; I don’t. But I don’t care if I hurt his feelings. I’m too angry to care. Angry and relieved and pissed off and…and, God, I’m so glad he’s okay. I thump his chest one more time in frustration, and then somehow my lips are on his--hungry and demanding and punishing all at once. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
84
" Can you just imagine the two of them next year at the Phi Delta Carnation Ball?” Laura Grace asks, clapping her hands together.
Daddy looks confused. “The two of who?”
“Why, Ryder and Jemma, of course.” Mama pats him on the hand. “You remember the Carnation Ball--it’s the first Phi Delta party of the year. They have to go together, right, Laura Grace?”
She nods. “We’ve been waiting all our lives for this.”
Mama finally glances my way and sees my scowl. “Aw, honey. We’re just teasing, that’s all.”
This sort of teasing has been going on my entire life--second verse, same as the first. It’s gotten real old, real fast.
“May I be excused?” I ask, pushing back from the table.
“You go on and finish your dinner,” Laura Grace says, entirely unperturbed. “We’ll stop teasing. I promise.”
“It’s okay. I’m done. It was delicious, thanks. I just need to get some air, that’s all. I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
Laura Grace nods. “It’s this heat--way too hot for September.” She waves a hand in my direction. “Go on, then. Ryder, why don’t you go get Jemma some aspirin or something.”
I glance over at Ryder, and our eyes meet. I shake my head, hoping he gets the message. “No, it’s fine. I’m…uh…I’ve got some in my purse.”
“Go with her, son,” Mr. Marsden prods. “Be a gentleman, and get her a bottle of water to take outside with her.”
Ugh. I give up. My escape plot is now ruined.
Wordlessly, Ryder rises from the table and stalks out of the dining room. I follow behind, my sandals slapping noisily against the hardwood floor.
“Do you want water or not?” he asks me as soon as the door swings shut behind us.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
He turns to face me. “It is pretty hot out there.”
“I near about melted on the drive over.”
His lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “Your dad refused to turn on the AC, huh?”
I nod as I follow him out into the cavernous marble-tiled foyer. “You know his theory--‘no point when you’re just going down the road.’ Must’ve been a thousand degrees in the car.”
He tips his head toward the front door. “You wait out on the porch--I’ll bring you a bottle of water.”
“Thanks.” I watch him go, wondering if we’re going to pretend like last night’s fight didn’t happen. I hope that’s the case, because I really don’t feel like rehashing it. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
85
" You remember that documentary they showed us in sixth grade? The one about Hurricane Katrina?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, remembering how we’d all piled into the media center to watch it on the big, pull-down screen. I don’t recall much about the movie itself, but I’m pretty sure Brad Pitt had narrated it. “What about it?”
"I had nightmares for weeks. I have no idea why it affected me the way it did.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “Ever since, well…let’s just say I don’t do well in storms. Especially hurricanes.”
I just stare at him in stunned silence.
“You’re going to have fun with this, aren’t you?”
“No, I…of course not. Jeez.” How big of a bitch does he think I am? “I’m not going to tell a soul. I promise. Okay? What happens in the storm shelter stays in the storm shelter,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.
His whole body seems to relax then, as if I’ve taken a weight off him.
“Did you seriously think I was going to rag on you for this? I mean, we’ve been friends forever.”
He quirks one brow. “Friends?”
“Well, okay, not friends, exactly. But you know what I mean. Our moms used to put us in a crib together. Back when we were babies.”
He winces. “I know.”
“When we were little, things were fine. But then…well, middle school. It was just…I don’t know…awkward. And then in eighth grade, I thought maybe…” I shake my head, obviously unable to form a complete sentence. “Never mind.”
“You thought what? C’mon, don’t stop now. You’re doing a good job distracting me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Call it a public service. Or…pretend I’m just one of the pets.”
“Poor babies,” I say, glancing over at the cats. Kirk and Spock are curled up together in the back of the crate, keeping the bromance alive. Sulu is sitting alone in the corner, just staring at us. “He’s a she, you know.”
“Who?”
“Sulu. Considering she’s a calico, you’d think Daddy would have figured it out. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
86
" I thought we were meeting by the field house,” I call out as I make my way over.
He doesn’t even turn around. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I said the parking lot.”
“You definitely said the field house,” I argue. Why can’t he ever just admit that he’s wrong?
“Geez, field house, parking lot. What difference does it make?” Mason asks. “Give it a rest, why don’t you.”
I shoot him a glare. “Oh, hey, Mason. Remember when your hair was long and everyone thought you were a girl?”
Ryder chuckles as he releases a perfect spiral in Mason’s direction. “She’s got you there.”
“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Mason catches the ball and cradles it against his chest, then launches it toward Ben. I just stand there watching as they continue to toss it back and forth between the three of them. Haven’t they had enough football for one day?
I pull out my cell to check the time. “We should probably get going.”
“I guess,” Ryder says with an exaggerated sigh, like I’m putting him out or something. Which is particularly annoying since he’s the one who insisted on going with me.
Ben jogs up beside me, the football tucked beneath his arm. “Where are you two off to? Whoa, you’re sweaty.”
I fold my arms across my damp chest. “Hey, southern girls don’t sweat. We glow.”
Ben snorts at that. “Says who?”
“Says Ryder’s mom,” I say with a grin. It’s one of Laura Grace’s favorite sayings--one that always makes Ryder wince.
“The hardware store,” Ryder answers, snatching the ball back from Ben. “Gotta pick up some things for the storm--sandbags and stuff like that. Y’all want to come?”
“Nah, I think I’ll pass.” Mason wrinkles his nose. “Pretty sure I don’t want to be cooped up in the truck with Jemma glowing like she is right now.”
“Everybody thought you and Morgan were identical twin girls,” I say with a smirk. “Remember, Mason? Isn’t that just so cute?”
“I’ll go,” Ben chimes in. “If you’re getting sandbags, you’ll need some help carrying them out to the truck.”
“Thanks, Ben. See, someone’s a gentleman.”
“Don’t look now, Ryder, but your one-woman fan club is over there.” Mason tips his head toward the school building in the distance. “I think she’s scented you out. Quick. You better run.”
I glance over my shoulder to find Rosie standing on the sidewalk by the building’s double doors, looking around hopefully.
“Hey!” Mason calls out, waving both arms above his head. “He’s over here.”
Ryder’s cheeks turn beet-red. He just stares at the ground, his jaw working furiously.
“C’mon, man,” Ben says, throwing an elbow into Mason’s side. “Don’t be a dick.” He grabs the football and heads toward Ryder’s Durango. “We better get going. The hardware store probably closes at six.”
Silently, Ryder and I hurry after him and hop inside the truck--Ben up front, me in the backseat. We don’t look back to see if Rosie’s following. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
87
" Here you go,” Ryder says, startling me. He holds out a sweating bottle of water, and I take it gratefully, pressing it against my neck.
“Thanks.” I glance away, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me in peace. His presence makes me self-conscious now, but it wasn’t always like this. As I look out at Magnolia Landing’s grounds, I can’t help but remember hot summer days when Ryder and I ran through sprinklers and ate Popsicles out on the lawn, when we rode our bikes up and down the long drive, when we built a tree fort in the largest of the oaks behind the house.
I wouldn’t say we’d been friends when we were kids--not exactly. We had been more like siblings. We played; we fought. Mostly, we didn’t think too much about our relationship--we didn’t try to define it. And then adolescence hit. Just like that, everything was awkward and uncomfortable between us. By the time middle school began, I was all too aware that he wasn’t my brother, or even my cousin.
“Mind if I sit?” Ryder asks.
I shrug. “It’s your house.” I keep my gaze trained straight ahead, refusing to look in his direction as he lowers himself into the chair beside me.
After a minute or two of silence but for the creaking rockers, he sighs loudly. “Can we call a truce now?”
“You’re the one who started it,” I snap. “Last night, I mean.”
“Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said. You know, about eighth grade--”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“Because we didn’t really hang out in middle school, except for family stuff,” he continues, ignoring my protest. “Until the end of eighth grade, maybe. Right around graduation.”
My entire body goes rigid, my face flushing hotly with the memory.
It had all started during Christmas break that year. We’d gone to the beach with the Marsdens. I can’t really explain it, but there’d been a new awareness between us that week--exchanged glances and lingering looks, an electrical current connecting us in some way. The two of us sort of tiptoed around each other, afraid to get too close, but also afraid to lose that hint of…something. And then Ryder asked me to go with him to the graduation dance. There was no way we were telling our parents. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
88
" For a moment we just sit there silently, our heads tipped back as we stare at the sky. A minute passes, maybe two. And then Ryder’s hand grazes mine before settling on the ground, our pinkies touching.
I suck in a breath, my entire body going rigid. I’m wondering if he realizes it, if he even knows he’s touching me, when just like that, he draws away.
Ryder clears his throat. “So…I hear you’re going out with Patrick on Friday.”
“And?” I ask. That brief connection that we’d shared is suddenly gone--poof, just like that.
“And what?” he answers with a shrug.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got an opinion on this--one you’re just dying to share.” Because Ryder has an opinion on everything.
“Well, it’s just that Patrick…” He shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget I brought it up.”
“No, go on. It’s just that Patrick what?”
“Seriously, Jemma. It’s none of my business.”
“C’mon, Ryder, get it out of your system. What? Patrick is looking to get a piece? Is using me? Is planning on standing me up?” I can’t help myself; the words just tumble out.
“I was going to say that I think he really likes you,” he says, his voice flat.
I bite back my retort, forcing myself to take a deep, calming breath instead. That was not what I had expected him to say--not at all--and it takes me completely by surprise. Patrick really likes me? I’m not sure how I feel about that--not sure I want it to be true.
“What do you mean, he really likes me?” I ask stupidly.
“Just what I said. It’s pretty simple stuff, Jemma. He likes you. I think he always has.”
“And you know this how?”
He levels a stare at me. “Trust me on this, okay? He’s got problems, sure, but he’s a decent guy. Don’t break his heart.”
I scramble to my feet. “I agreed to go out with him--once. And I’m probably going to cancel, anyway, because after today’s news, I’m really not in the mood. But the last thing I need is dating advice from you.”
“How come every conversation we have ends like this--with you going off on me? You didn’t use to be like this. What happened?”
He’s right, and I hate myself for it--hate the way he makes me feel inside, as if I’m not good enough. I mean, let’s face it--I know I’m nothing special. I’m not beauty-pageant perfect like Morgan, or fashion-model gorgeous like Lucy. Unlike Ryder and Nan, I don’t have state-championship trophies lining my walls. My singing voice is only so-so, I can’t draw or play a musical instrument, and if the school plays are any indicator, I can’t act for shit, either. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
91
" So, are you going to tell me what I did to piss you off that year? Because I’m coming up totally blank.”
I turn on him. “Seriously? You’re coming up blank?”
“Why don’t you help me out here?”
I just stare at him uncomprehendingly.
“C’mon, Jemma,” he taunts. “Use your words.”
I rise, my hands curled into fists by my sides. “Oh, I’ll use my words all right, douchebucket. Remember the eighth-grade dance? Is that ringing any bells for you?”
He scratches his head, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then…“You mean the graduation dance? If I remember correctly, you didn’t even show up.”
“Is that what you think? That I didn’t show up?” I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it--Ryder trying to act like the injured party, as if I’d stood him up.
“You got a better explanation?” he asks.
“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. Jerk,” I add under my breath. And then, “I’m going for a walk.”
He rises, towering over me now. “So you’re just going to storm off? Really, Jem?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding furiously. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. How clever of you to figure it out.”
I can feel Ryder’s eyes boring a hole in my back as I flounce down the stairs and hurry down the drive with as much dignity as I can muster. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
93
" I’ve gotta go,” I say, scowling at my phone.
“Now?” Ryder asks, tipping my chin up with one hand so that our eyes meet.
“Unfortunately. It’s my mom. Lucy and Morgan are covering for me, but I’ve got to get back. I’m supposed to be at the drugstore.”
“What are we going to tell them? Our moms, I mean?”
I shake my head. “We can’t tell them anything. At least, not yet. Can you imagine the pressure they’d put on us if they knew? I mean, they already drive us nuts and they think we hate each other.”
“You’re right. So…we keep it a secret?”
“Not exactly. I’ve got to tell Lucy and Morgan. Just…not our parents, okay? Besides, think how fun it will be, sneaking around.”
His eyes light with mischief. “Good point.”
“Don’t go getting any naughty ideas,” I tease. “C’mon, walk me to my car.”
He takes my hand and falls into step beside me, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.
“What?” I ask.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up ‘naughty,’ not me.”
I poke him playfully in the ribs.
“I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Let’s pretend we’ve got to do a school project together. You know, say that we’ve been paired up against our will. We can make a big fuss about it--complain about having to spend so much time together.”
“While we secretly do lots of naughty things?” I offer.
He nods. “Exactly.”
I shiver, imagining the possibilities. Suddenly, I’m looking forward to those Sunday dinners at Magnolia Landing. And to Christmas and the inevitable Cafferty-Marsden winter vacation. In fact, the rest of the school year looms ahead like a lengthy stretch of opportunities, no longer filled with uncertainty and doubt, but with the knowledge that I’m on the right path now…the perfect path.
And like Nan suggested, I’m going to grab it. Embrace it. Hold on to it tightly--just like I’m holding on to this boy beside me.
We reach my car way too quickly. I’m not ready to go, to leave him, to begin this necessary charade. I lean against my car’s door with a sigh, drawing Ryder toward me. His entire body is pressed against mine, firing every cell inside me at once. My knees go weak as he kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine, despite the urgency.
“Good night,” I whisper.
“Good night,” he whispers back, his breath warm against my cheek.
Oh man. It just about kills me to slip inside the car and turn the key in the ignition. I’m grinning to myself as I drive away, watching as Ryder becomes a speck in my rearview mirror before melting into the night. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
94
" It’s getting late. I should probably go in.”
“C’mon, I’ll walk you.”
He holds out a hand to me. I take it, falling into step beside him--marveling at how right it feels. I glance up at him, his face illuminated by the moonlight. Something in his expression sparks a memory. Ryder at the beach, watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Ryder at school, glancing at me from across the hall. Ryder at Magnolia Landing, sitting across the table from me at Sunday dinner, watching me eat. I always interpreted his expression as something bordering on contempt--disdain, maybe. But now…now he’s looking at me with that exact same expression, and I realize that maybe I was wrong all along.
In so, so many ways. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
95
" I still can’t believe you kissed him.”
“Speaking of,” Lucy says coyly, “on a scale of one to ten…?”
I just stare at her, mouth agape. “What, you want me to rate him?”
“Uh, yeah,” Lucy answers, smiling wickedly. “Don’t leave us hanging.”
“Fine.” I let out my breath in a huff. “He was a perfectly competent kisser.”
“Perfectly competent? Yeah, I don’t think so. C’mon, you gotta dish, girlfriend.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Don’t you think I’m in enough trouble as it is?”
Her response is a pointed stare.
“Okay, fine. He was a good kisser. Really good. A seven, maybe an eight. There, are you satisfied?”
Her lips twitch with a smile. “I figured he would be.”
Morgan mimes sticking her finger down her throat and gagging.
“Your mama’s going to be brokenhearted, you know,” Lucy says, reaching for my abandoned plate and pulling it toward her. She picks up a half-eaten éclair and examines it, then sets it back down. “Hasn’t she already picked out a china pattern for you and Ryder?”
“Ha-ha, very funny.” But truth be told, she probably has. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
96
" Hey, Patrick is looking for you.”
The voice startles me so badly that I slosh tea on myself. I look down to find Ryder standing below, his hands thrust into his pants pockets as he stares up at me, his mouth drawn into a tight line.
“Tell him I went to bed,” I say. “And thanks a lot for scaring me half to death.” Scowling, I swipe futilely at the wet splotch on the front of my tank top. He’s lucky the tea wasn’t hot.
Ryder takes a step closer, till he’s standing just beneath the balcony. He tilts his face upward, and I can see the contempt there in his features. “So now you’re just going to blow him off?”
“Why don’t you do me a favor and mind your own business?” I shoot back.
“Patrick is my friend; therefore, it is my business. By the way, you do know he’s one to kiss and tell, right?”
“You just said he was your friend.”
He shrugs. “Hey, it’s your reputation.”
“Since when do you care about my reputation, Ryder? Anyway, we were just kissing, if you must know. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
98
" He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid motion.
And then I remember why this was a bad idea. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his tanned, sculpted chest, his narrow waist, and jutting hip bones. Oh, man. What was I thinking?
I swallow hard as he unbuttons his jeans and slides down the zipper. Boxers or briefs? That’s all I’m thinking as he peels down the wet denim--slowly, as if he’s enjoying this little striptease. He steps out of them gracefully and tosses them into a heap beside his shirt before straightening to his full height, facing me.
Oh. My. God.
I exhale sharply. The answer is boxer briefs, heather-gray ones. And right now they’re clinging to him wetly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He looks like a god. A six-foot-four, football-playing god, and I am staring at him with my mouth hanging open like some kind of pathetic freak. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
99
" Sunday dinner at the Marsdens’ is more than a meal--it’s an occasion. I’m dressed accordingly, wearing a pale green sundress with a sweater to ward off the chill of the air-conditioning.
“Well, I blame my mama, God rest her soul,” Laura Grace says with a sigh. “She never taught me how to cook. You have no idea how lucky you are, Jemma--you and Nan both. Your mama’s a great cook, and she made sure to teach you. You girls’ husbands are surely going to thank her one day.”
It’s impossible to miss the pointed look she gives Ryder.
He ignores her and continues to attack his own roast. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, but his tie is neat and his khakis perfectly pressed. He cuts off a slice of rare meat and brings it to his mouth. Chewing slowly, he fixes his gaze on the wall directly above my mother’s head. It’s clear that he, too, would rather be anywhere else right now--anywhere but here, a helpless victim of our mothers’ machinations.
Laura Grace glances from him to me and back to him again. “Next year, when the two of you are off at Oxford, you better promise to drive over together each week for Sunday dinner, you hear?”
“Now, c’mon, Laura Grace,” Mr. Marsden chides. “You know Ryder hasn’t made his decision yet. You’ve got to give the boy some space to figure it out.”
She waves one hand in dismissal. “I know. But a mama can hope, can’t she? I’m sorry, but I just can’t imagine the two of them going off in different directions.”
“There’s only one choice for the both of them, as far as I’m concerned,” my mom says. “It’s about time the Rebels get their football program back on track, and Ryder’s just the boy to do it--with Jemma cheering him on.”
I can’t help but cringe, staring down at my plate. I mean, is this really what my mom dreams about? Is this the best she can imagine for me?
For a moment, everyone continues to eat silently. The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but I doubt Mama or Laura Grace even notice. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
100
" I have no idea how long I doze, but when I open my eyes again, the sirens have quieted. Ryder’s lying beside me, our shoulders touching.
“You awake?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I mumble sleepily. “Is it morning yet?”
“Not quite. Soon.”
I nod, and we both fall silent. Inexplicably, I find myself scooting closer to him, fitting myself against his side, seeking his warmth.
He puts an arm around me, drawing me closer.
I let out a contented sigh. There’s something so familiar--and yet so foreign--about his closeness. I think about those shared cribs, the communal Pack ’n Plays our mothers insisted on. Maybe that explains it--old memories, too far out of reach to be easily accessed, but there all the same.
That’s why this feels so…right. It must be.
I feel Ryder’s fingers in my hair, combing through it absently. His heart is thumping noisily against my ear, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“Jem?”
I swallow hard before answering. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said--you know, about the eighth-grade dance. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out what you were talking about. And”--he swallows hard--“there’s something I need to tell you.”
Why is he bringing this up now? “You don’t have to, Ryder,” I say, my heart accelerating. “You were right. It was a long time ago.”
“I know, but, well…just hear me out, okay?”
I nod, mentally bracing myself. I’m not sure I want to hear this--to open those old wounds again.
“I said some things that night, things I’m not proud of. And…it occurred to me that someone might have told you, and--”
“I heard you, Ryder,” I say, cutting him off. “I was there, hiding in those trees by the rock. I heard everything.”
He lets out his breath in a low whistle. “Shit. I am so sorry, Jemma. I didn’t think--I mean, not that it makes any difference, but I didn’t know. I figured you’d had second thoughts or something and decided you didn’t want to go with me.”
“I wish,” I mumble. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
